


FN-2187

by jediluke



Category: Star Wars
Genre: First Order training, Pre Star Wars The Force Awakens, Star Wars - Freeform, Stormtrooper training, The First Order, Time Jump, Weapon Training, aquatic stormtroopers, because if no one else will give it to us... I will, finn's backstory, sequel trilogy, star wars backstory, stormtroopers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2019-02-04
Packaged: 2019-07-29 09:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16261373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jediluke/pseuds/jediluke
Summary: All young FN-2187 has ever known are the dull walls of The Absolution. As he hits the age where the FN division is ready to start their training, his world is about to get a whole lot larger.





	1. Child Soldier

Grey, black, white, the occasional streak of red from a blaster in the training center. The only colors FN-2187 could ever recall seeing in his young life. But it was constant, and the starship under his still wobbly knees was the only thing that the boy had ever known.   
He wasn't even sure if there were any other colors in the galaxy besides the ones on the Absolution. 

Not that it would matter. Six year old FN-2187 knew that once the First Order seized control of the galaxy, there would be no need for any other colors. Everything would be the same, exactly as it was supposed to be. Orderly, controlled, perfect. 

The young boy rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with small hands. The lull of a gentle voice uttering beautiful words about just how incredible the First Order was, and how much they were helping the galaxy by eliminating scum who dared not bow under the order’s boot coaxed him back out into a conscious state. It was the same message every time that sent the boys to bed and woke them up in the morning. He wasn't to leave his bunk until the recording stopped and signaled that it was time for their first morning task. Eight-seven looked around his quarters, his bunkmates all still resting blissfully under their scratchy sheets. He was the oldest of all of the other boys in his room. The youngest, FN-1908 was barely old enough to be able to dress himself. How the commanding officers thought that the toddler was going to be able to handle a trainer blaster was beyond his whelm of understanding. 

Eight-Seven was so accustomed to the whispers of the nighttime First Order message that he barely registered that it had shut itself off until the lights in the room raised to a level that was momentarily uncomfortable on his eyes. FN-2000 jumped down from the bunk above him, startling him a bit as the boy landed with a heavy thunk on the floor. 

“You okay Two-thousand?” He asked, eyebrows knitted together in worry. But Two-thousand just gave him a smile and grabbed his regulation clothes off of the nearby table,

“Yep! Hey, are you excited Eight-Seven?” 

“You really think they’ll let us on go with the older boys?” Eight-Seven asked, pulling his black pants onto his legs. Black pants, black shirt, regulation black socks, then the boots. 

“Hope so.” Two-thousand beamed, peering over to see FN-2199 and FN-2003 slip from their respective bunks. Eight-Seven stood up off of the edge of his own bed and walked over to the significantly smaller bed in the corner of the room. He gently woke up FN-1908 and removed him from his bed before helping him put his clothes on. The black fabric was just like the fabric that the older Stormtroopers wore under their armor, except, the young boys had not yet earned their shiny white armor. 1908 began to fuss under Eight-Seven’s hold, whining as tears brimmed his young eyes. He took his index finger and slid it under the toddler’s eyes, wiping away the tears threatening to spill onto his flushed cheeks. He was too young for this and FN-2187 would have probably protested if he knew that doing so would not get him sent to the hangar door where he would be pushed out into the inky blackness of space. So he dealt with it the best he could, attempting to soothe the youngest soldier from whatever was making him cry. He wondered if he had any memory of his family, if he was missing them. FN-2187 did not know who or where his family may be, or if he even had one for that matter. As far as he was aware, the other young soldiers were his family. He was unaware that, even though he had been stripped away from his home at too young of an age to even recollect a possible family, it had all been brainwashed from him anyway- just for good measure. The last thing the First Order needed was for their troopers to suddenly start to have memories of before, or all of a sudden have feelings. 

They were not allowed to have feelings.

That was one of the reasons Eight-Seven was so scared for the toddler. He was young and barely understood right from wrong. Would they push him out the hanger door if he began to cry? He decided that he did not want to know. Instead he tried to comfort the boy, pulling funny faces to try to get him to laugh. It wasn't enough.

“Maybe he’s hungry.” Two-Thousand suggested, tying up his boots into a messy knot. Yet another difference between the training boots and the fully trained trooper boots, the laces. Eight-seven knew he’d get in trouble for letting his laces look so messy. He took the sniffing toddler by his small hand and walked with him to the mess hall. 

The toddler’s meal portion was significantly smaller than FN-2187’s. Their portions were measured by each soldier’s height, weight and age. The brown protein bars, Eight-seven imagined, tasted worse than if he were to lick the floor. It was downright vile, but he knew it was all he had. His choices were either to eat or end up in the medbay from malnutrition.   
Eating felt like the better option. 

Not that it mattered, his stomach felt like it was filled with flying critters anyway. But at least 1908 had stopped crying. 

Eight-Seven looked around, watching the mess hall fill with his bunk mates, other young soldiers and older ones who had seen battle many times before. He wanted to be like them one day. To strap on that cool, shiny white armor and assist the First Order in ruling the galaxy.   
Though, he also couldn't miss the shiny red suit standing in line to retrieve his portions. The trooper’s armor excited him even more than the white ones did. Not to mention, this one had a long, black armorweave cape draped around his shoulders. 

And he was walking right towards him. 

Eight-Seven sat up as straight as he could, his feet unable to touch the floor below him. The red trooper set down his tray with his much larger portion on the opposite side of the table. He sat down, took off his helmet and set it down on the table. He looked up at the red trooper with wide eyes, unable to contain his excitement. 

“Are you like Lord Vader?” He blurted out, immediately ready to issue an apology, but the trooper gave a small chuckle,

“Vader? I don't think I’d say that much. I am a captain, however.” 

Eight-Seven had heard that title before, he knew he had to treat the man with respect. 

“I'm sorry, captain.” He said politely, unsure of what to do with himself. 

“What's your name?” The captain asked, undoing the wrappings from his protein bar.

“FN-2187, Captain.” 

“FN? I believe your division is set to start training today.” He was silenced as he took a bit out of the unwrapped protein bar. 

“We are, Captain.”

The Captain’s brown eyes wandered over to FN-1908, and Finn could’ve sworn he saw an inkling of concern crease into his brow. 

“How old is your division member, Eight-Seven?” He asked

“I believe he’s three or four, Captain.” 

The man’s jaw slowed until he ceased chewing. He could see him swallow and then shake his head,

“Well, Eight-Seven, I think it’s time you and your division member wrap up and head to the training room. We’ll be beginning our session shortly and you won’t want to be late on your first day.” 

Eight-Seven nodded with egerness and swept up his and 1908’s trays before taking the small boy’s hand. He had turned away before he could see Captain Cardinal’s face twist with confusion. 

The Captain had no clue why they were letting a three year old start combat training. Had he been barely born when the Order rescued him off of Lothal? Though he was better off in the ranks of the First Order, Captain Cardinal knew the boy was too young to be starting something so dangerous. He’d have to convince Hux that the boy should stay in disciplinary training until he’s actually old enough to be able to partake in combat. But, the Captain knew that there was nothing to be done.

General Hux wouldn't hear it. 

\-- 

Eight-Seven and Nineteen-O-Eight were the first to arrive to the training floor. Eight-Seven had to tug his hand away from Nineteen who had his opposite thumb stuck in his mouth and was too occupied looking around the large room to notice that anything had been said to him. He was too easily distracted and once again Eight-Seven was scared for him, but he pushed that to the very back of his mind. The Captain had not been concerned so he shouldn't be either. Sitting down on one of the large, grey steps, he took a look around, letting his eyes wander around to different areas of the room. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Sure he had heard the older boys talking about the complicated obstacle and combat training, but they had never told him how amazing it all looked. He was in awe and trying desperately not to let it show. He was the oldest in his division, he had to be an example.   
What the older boys had neglected to tell FN-2187 was about the introduction to a new color. It was like grey, but felt like it appeared much colder. A few other boys walking around the ship had nearly the same color eyes as whatever this screen was, he decided to name the color “eyes”. It didn't actually make since, his own eyes were not the color of the screen. In fact, he had only seen the color of his eyes on himself and some fellow troopers skin and hair. He wasn't sure he had seen it anywhere else. 

A few more boys began to trickle in, consisting of both his bunkmates and other boys he had seen at their early lessons. They were all FN division members, Eight-Seven was sure of that. 

“Eight-Seven!” Someone shouted, making him turn around. FN-9330 waved at him as he approached. But the red Captain from earlier entered the room before the two could strike up a conversation. The room went silent except for the gentle clomping of a single pair of boots. The red Captain’s helmet had been placed back on his head and Eight-Seven acknowledged that he did look more intimidating that way. With the helmet off, he just looked like another ordinary person, almost friendly. 

FN-9330 knocked his shoulder into Eight-Seven’s and motioned up with his chin to an upper observation deck,

“Someone’s caf was too sour this morning.” He whispered almost silently, grateful for the cover the the gentle whirring of all the machines in the room and the ship itself. Eight-Seven didn’t laugh, unsure if it was supposed to be a joke or a general statement about the red-haired man peering down at them. EIght-Seven and the red-haired man’s eyes (which he quickly realized were near the same color as some of the training equipment around them) made eye contact, before the boy quickly broke it. 9330 had seemingly been right, the man looked incredibly put off by something that he just couldn't put his finger on. Though, Eight-Seven did not want the red-haired man to come any closer. If anyone were to push a ill-behaving trooper out into space, it would surely be him. 

The red Captain cleared his throat and FN-2187’s attention snapped back to him.   
“Gentlemen, I’m Captain Cardinal, you’ll refer to me as such and only as such. Everything that you learned in your early schooling on discipline surely should have taught you that. If not, please begin to implement it now.” He took a brief survey of the room before seeming to nod his head, the high fluorescent lights above him reflecting off of his perfectly shined helmet,   
“Good, looks like your entire division reported on time. Excellent work. Timeliness is incredibly valuable as you’ll want to spend as much training in here as you can before your thrust out into the real world.”

There was a low jittery hum from the boys around him as they turned to each other to make small, excited comments. Captain Cardinal held up his hand,

“Now now, I know you’re all excited but please try to keep your chatter to a minimum. Things in here can get real dangerous real quick if we aren't all on high alert.” 

From high above the boys on the observation deck came the sound of clanking armor, drawing their attention upwards and away from Captain Cardinal. FN-2187 noticed that another stormtrooper had joined the red-haired man, appearing to look down upon them. Of course, it was hard to tell through their helmet, but it certainly felt like they were staring down at them. He felt the need to stand up a little straighter, for, much like Captain Cardinal, this trooper wasn't wearing ordinary white armor. Theirs was bright, shiny, made of a material that none of the boys had ever seen before. But, it made the trooper seem very important. Eight-Seven would have even guessed that this stromtrooper might be even more important than their Captain. 

The man with the red hair leaned over a bit to draw nearer to the shiny stormtrooper his mouth pulling out of its firm line to something that seemed much more sinister. He appeared to make a remark to them before turning back to look down upon the boys, his arms pulling away from the edge of the observation deck wall and pinning themselves to his back. 

“As you’ve noticed, we have a few guests observing your first day today…” Captain Cardinal started, seeming a bit irritated by their presence,  
“But please try to pay them no mind. General Hux and Captain Phasma are people you may just find yourself working with one day soon if you find yourself successful here. They're merely here to see how their youngest hopefuls might pan out.” 

The boys simultaneously looked back at their Captain as a set of alarms started to go off. It wasn’t an odd occurrence for the alarms to sound, but inside the walls of the training center the sound seemed to echo greatly throughout the room. Captain Phasma and General Hux quickly disappeared from the observation deck before anyone could speak a word. 

“No matter… FN-2187 and FN-9330, why don’t you two step forward?” 

While FN-9330 went to turn toward FN-2187 for a glance of reassurance, 2187 simply took a few confident steps forward, trying to imitate the way he had seen several high ranking officers and troopers walk. Of course, it looked quite silly without the sharp uniform, but with his head held high, Eight-Seven was positive that he wanted to look like a role model for the younger troopers. 

Captain Cardinal took a special, mental note of it. 

FN-9330 quickly fumbled to fall in step a few paces behind his troopermate.   
He tried to imitate the way he was standing and Eight-Seven was about to correct his posture when a helmet was thrust into his hands. 

It was much different than how the regular helmets looked, in fact they almost looked a little silly. Eight-Seven had never seen them before and was fairly certain that they weren't allowed to leave the walls of the training facility. 

“Suit up boys, we’ll start easy, but you'll be better off starting with the helmets on and getting used to how to move in them…” The Captain crouched down, his armor clicking as pieces struck against each other and he put his hands on each boy's shoulders,  
“I believe in you both.”

Eight-Seven took a deep breath and flipped the helmet so he was staring straight at the opening. In the side of his vision he saw FN-9330 peer over at him, appearing to be waiting for him to go first. 

His lips pressed into a straight line and he lifted the helmet up and slid it down onto his head. He straightened it as much he could, but the view was still a bit crooked and blocked off. He guessed that the training helmets just weren't proper fit. Slowly he raised his head, eyes wandering frantically as he looked for something to focus on. Finally, he found shiny red armor. 

FN-2187 looked at his captain with poised shoulders and a posture that would have even made some of the older cadets jealous.

“How’s the new view, Eight-Seven?”


	2. Training Commences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s something different about FN-2187

FN-2187 registered how heavy the Captain’s hand felt on his shoulder. The helmet was disorienting and his breathing sounded way too loud in his ears.

His small hands reached up to the bottom of the helmet, but Captain began to speak in his muffled voice, 

“Nuh-uh, keep the bucket on kid. It's what keeps you safe.” FN-2187 then noticed Captain Cardinal’s sudden absence as well. However, he returned back a moment after with two long prop weapons that resembled sticks. Eight-Seven was certain that they were capable of no damage. At least, that's what he hoped, because while his head was protected, nothing else was. 

The weapon felt weightless in his hand as he gripped and examined it. It was painfully high-tech yet so incredibly simple. 

FN-2187 remembered briefly some of the tales about the Jedi and the Sith that the older boys would tell. He had never seen a lightsaber before, but something in his brain kept telling him that this was the closest thing to a lightsaber that he would ever hold. He was no Jedi, nor a Sith, though he had a very minimal understanding of what both of those words meant.

He wasn’t sure if he’d want to be either of them if he were given the power. 

“Eight-Seven? Can you please stand in front of FN-9330? Facing each other.” Captain spoke.

He swallowed hard before taking a step in front of his acquaintance, staring straight at his eyestirps. Eight-Seven wondered if he was staring back or not, but he thought it would be inappropriate to talk. 

“We’re going to start really easy, okay? Now, of course you would never fight another stormtrooper. These boys are your brothers, but we can’t very well have you training on the simulation courses before actually trying a little light tactical combat.” The Captain explained, pacing a bit in front of the young boys. He stopped suddenly and walked to the other side of the room before returning back to them, a much more sophisticated weapon in his hand. It was long, white and had two spokes sticking off one of its ends. 

“This…” He gripped the handle and the adhesion grip gracefully and automatically interworked itself with his hand, “is a Z6 riot control baton. Non-lethal but… extremely effective against unruly rebels.” The captain’s hand shifted and the end of the baton ignited with life. The electric currents bouncing off the spokes crackled as power ran through them. 

“Show us how it works!” One of the young boys yelled enthusiastically. FN-2187 felt himself flinch. He couldn’t tell tell who it was but he was suddenly scared for them. One wasn’t supposed to speak out of turn nor demand things. However, the Captain just chuckled, 

“Non-lethal doesn't mean automatically safe to use against unarmed children.”

“Eight-Seven is armed, and he’s got a bucket on!” It was that same boy again and Eight-Seven’s eyes grew wide. Captain Cardinal turned towards Eight-Seven, 

“Do you think you can block my shot?” He asked, hand still holding the riot baton. FN-2187 gave a small, nervous nod that he tried to mask with a bit of determination. If he could block a riot baton with something so simple, he’d be able to do anything. 

FN-9330 was ushered away, leaving FN-2187 and Captain Cardinal in the middle of the combat floor. 

“I’ll try to take it easy on you, boy.” Cardinal reassured before taking a few steps away from him. FN-2187 watched as he spun the weapon in his hand with ease, the cracking electricity whirring as it turned. It reminded him once more of the lightsabers that the Jedi and Sith wielded. He had seen a spinning maneuver much like a Jedi with a blue lightsaber had in an illegal Holovid that one of the older boys had snuck in. 

The young boy widened his stance and placed his feet firmly on the ground. He adjusted his grip on the mock-weapon and tried to concentrate. 

Captain Cardinal started walking towards Eight-Seven, the riot baton poised and grumbling with life in his grasp. He raised his mock weapon, teetering on the balls of his feet for a moment before something in him snapped. Eight-Seven ran forward suddenly, going straight for the Captain who seemed to take a hesitant step. 

Their weapons made contact, creating an awful noise that made the young boys watching gasp, but FN-2817 didn’t flinch. Instead, he pushed up slightly with his weapon to try to get the Captain’s away from him. Captain Cardinal didn’t put any pressure back on him, pulling it back and letting the electricity fade out with a simple movement. 

FN-2187 lowered his weapon and stood, chest rising and falling as he breathed in deep. 

He didn’t notice that Cardinal was watching him though those dark vision slits. Cardinal was rapidly taking mental notes, trying to push his surprise back and not let it cloud his thoughts. 

“Nice- nice job Eight-Seven. Why don't you go take a rest on the steps? I’ll send for a droid with some protein bars. And take off that helmet.” 

Eight-Seven looked up at him, the plastic of the helmet digging into the back of his neck from having to crane his neck so far back, terrified that he had done something wrong. 

“Yes Captain.” He stated before taking the helmet off from his head. As he looked at the rest of the boys, he finally noticed that they were all looking at him in shock, some of the youngest even looking a bit scared. Eight-Seven tore away their eye contact and pushed his way through to go sit on the steps. 

He turned around and sat down on their smooth, polished surface. Captain Cardinal was speaking into his wrist at a level that he couldn’t make out what he was saying. 

Technically, Eight-Seven thought he had broken a rule. He had, afterall, charged after a commanding Captain with a weapon. Suddenly, he was fearing for his future. 

\--

That evening, Eight-Seven could barely touch his meal. It wasn’t that he wasn’t hungry, no, in fact he was starving, but no one in the FN division would leave him alone. Boy after boy kept running up to him, asking him hundreds of questions that he didn’t even know how to answer.   
He was glad that the talking seemed to be only coming from his own division. FN-2187 was sure that he hadn’t done anything special. He had just blocked another attacker. It was a natural instinct. 

FN-2187 hastily got up, taking the plastic tray in his hands and tossing it into the return container before leaving the mess hall. He knew a droid would probably try to stop him after reading his levels and figuring out that he hadn't ate, so he found himself sneaking around corners of the ship while trying not to look too suspicious. 

He was almost to his quarters when someone called for him. Their voice was almost mechanical and it made his blood run cold. Slowly he turned around.

“FN-2187?” The chrome- plated trooper stood poised in the corridor, repeating their question. Eight-Seven recognized them as the one who had been standing right next to the red headed general in the training room. 

“Yes?” He asked, voice wavering. He noticed the red cape draped around her shoulders a little too late to address her as captain. 

“I have word of your training session today. It’s rather unfortunate that I was not able to see it for myself. You sound quite impressive.”

“Thank you, Captain.” His voice still bubbled with nerves. 

The Captain seemed to stare right at him through the black eye markings on the helmet. She didn’t speak again and FN-2187 was unsure of what to do. 

A mouse droid scuttled by, interrupting their silence. 

“It is not currently in my authority to bypass you out of Cardinal’s division and into mine. I find it quite unfortunate. You’re truly promising, trooper.”

FN-2187 didn’t know what else to respond with other than,

“Thank you Captain.” 

The Captain stared at him for a moment and then spoke once more.

“I’ll be keeping a close eye on you. Good luck, FN-2187.” The trooper turned on their heel and made their way down the long corridor. 

Eight-Seven just about ran back to his quarters at that point. 

He just hoped no one else was in there. 

—

Much to his relief, he was alone. 

It had been a very long time since he was alone. 

It was also the first time he felt like he enjoyed being alone, away from the other stormtroopers and their questions. 

All of the questions. 

Despite having what he thought was a natural interest and knack for taking care of people, sometimes it was too much. Sometimes he felt that it was unfair that someone so young had to take care of other children that were even younger than him. 

But if FN-2187 didn’t take care for them, who would?

No one else in the ship was keen on taking care of children who were not even old enough to realize the extent of what they were getting into. They, according to the Generals and Captains, were being provided with everything they needed. 

Food, a bed, training that would protect themselves and aid the galaxy. 

What more could they ask for? 

There was nothing else they could ask for. 

Their daily routines were all they had ever known. Yet, not a day went by that FN-2187 didn’t wish that he could remember what happened before. Before the mazes of walls, before the white uniforms and cramped bunks. 

Not a trace of his memory would tell him what his family was like or even what happened to them. But through it all, he found himself missing the ghosts of people he wasn’t even sure were quite real. 

Ghosts of people he was sure had cared for him and would have cared for the other boys in his division too if need be. 

FN-2187 shook the thought away.

Stormtroopers weren’t supposed to have feelings. 

It felt dangerous, it felt wrong. None of his other division members seemed to have feelings, usually sounding rather dead behind the eyes. Uniformity. They were all the same. At least, as far as Eight-Seven knew. He never would dare ask anyone else if they shared these feelings. Anyone else would have turned him in in an instant. 

The door opened suddenly, startling the young boy. FN-2000 and FN-2199 came into the room, talking loudly and laughing. They were too loud. 

“I’m going for a walk.” FN-2187 stated, pushing past two of his division members, not even bothering to look up as he left the room. 

He turned left, starting down the long, black corridor. He let his hand drag along the wall, taking mental note of every corner, every door that he passed, slowly memorizing them. 

It was something he liked to do. Memorize things. In fact he didn’t really find it all that of a thing to do, even in the endless maze-like walls of the ship.   
Sometimes the young boy wondered if they’d ever stop anywhere. If he’d ever be on the stable ground of a planet that didn’t lurch in and out of hyperspace. He wondered what he’d do there, what his duties would be if they weren’t sent to take order. Yet he was very glad for the near-absence of windows around him. The galaxy was so vast and empty and the thought of it scared Eight-Seven a bit. He was used to confines, close spaces, shiny floors that were always sturdy under his small boots. 

The youngest on the ship weren’t even wearing new boots. In fact, they usually grew out of them so fast that they were just passed down along the boys, sometimes even exchanging them in the mess hall like it was some sort of galactic card game. FN-2187 knew he would need to put in for new ones soon as his toes were beginning to grow cramped and he kept getting painful blisters on his heels from the synthetic material rubbing against his skin. He made a mental note to do it sooner rather than later so he would actually get them before his refused to go on his feet. 

He had to peer around the corners to check for droids or anyone else that could get him in trouble. 

Everyone seemed to like him and he preferred it stayed that way.


	3. Pride

FN-2187 was sick of having nightmares and terrified that, somehow, the med droids knew his censors was were being tempered with. 

Even in their sleep they were tracked, the little monitor that played the First Order lullabies- if one would chose to call them that- could read their brain activity and knew exactly when they fell into REM cycle. When Eight-Seven would wake up in a cold sweat, he would have to hack into his monitor to fiddle with the data. He had actually been surprised at how easy it was to scramble the encryption. 

Sometimes he wondered if the other computers on the ship were as easy to access.

He sat in the mess hall, barely eating his meal and only half awake. 

He couldn’t blink away the glowing red line in his vision, almost as if the dream had seared it in and left a nasty scar. It reminded him of a blaster bolt, red and thin. Except, it was longer, jagged and spitting a bloody glow. 

“Did you hear the rumor?” The voice snapped FN-2187 out of his haze. He quickly realized it wasn’t directed at him, as another boy sitting behind him responded. 

“Rumor? What rumor?” He couldn’t place names to their voices, but acknowledged that they were much older than him.

“They want us to go planetary.” 

Suddenly, Eight-Seven was more interested, despite his stomach twisting with nerves. 

“What, they want us to fight?”

“No, they’re calling it St-”

“Hey, is anyone sitting here?” Eight-Seven was suddenly pulled out of his- frowned upon- state of eavesdropping, much to his disappointment. He looked up at a boy who looked to be around his age standing on the side of the table opposite to him. 

“Oh- no. You can sit there.” Eight-Seven cleared his throat, trying to refocus. 

“You seemed a bit lost in thought there.” He smiled sheepishly, “I’m EJ-2399, by the way.” 

“Just… just thinking about the schedule for the day I suppose. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around? I’m FN-2187.” 

The boy looked at him with wide eyes,   
“You’re in the FN group? Wow..” He looked at his food with a frown before grabbing the nutrient bar. 

“Wow?” FN questioned, curious as to why he would have been standing out against the other groups on board. 

“General Hux kept bringing you up during lessons.” 

FN-2187’s eyebrows knit together in confusion, 

“General Hux lead your lessons?” 

“No-” EJ started, pausing momentarily to swallow what he was chewing, “he did come in sometimes though, especially the last few weeks.” 

FN-2187 didn’t answer him. 

Sure, The General had poked his head in on their lessons when he was still in them, usually standing in the back shadows of the room and not saying a word. He just held that stern look on his face, the one that made Eight-Seven believe that he might as well be a statue. He couldn’t lie, the General had scared him when he was too young to know any better. Though, part of the way that he could just slink out from the shadows, wrists pinned to the small of his back and his lips pressed into a thin line as his cold looking eyes seemed to raid the room still scared him a bit. He wondered what had changed in lessons that General Hux actually spoke when he came into the classroom. Eight-Seven realized it was easier to just believe that EJ-2399 was lying to him. 

 

“I have to get to basics.” Eight-Seven says bluntly, not turning back as EJ-2399 asks all too loudly why he was leaving before he even finished his meal. 

Eight-Seven shoved a half of his nutrient portion pack into his mouth just to make a point. 

\-- 

“FN-2187, could you please assist me?” Captain Cardinal asks, grabbing a practice stick from off of the durasteel wall. 

He didn’t protest, growing more used to being singled out to assist. In fact, he was beginning to take pride in it. A standard year had passed, since he first heard of some planet that the First Order seemed to be pretty proud of. He wondered if that’s where some of the older stormtroopers disappeared to. FN-2187 often worried about the stormtroopers that disappeared. 

He grabbed the stick and held it firmly in his hands. 

It was getting easier to deflect Captain Cardinals moves and FN-2187 was fairly certain that he had stopped going east on him. He just found himself wondering when he would be allowed to use a real weapon. 

Eight-Seven knew that age nine was when stormtroopers underwent close surveillance to see where they would be placed in the ranks once they turned ten years old. He was hoping for weaponry above anything else. Mastery was something he took pride in and he would’ve loved the chance to humbly brag about getting to dive draper into the usage of weapons. He found them intricate and fascinating. 

FN-2187 helped the Captain through the training session, stepping up to assist his fellow troopmates. 

“Captain Cardinal, may I speak to you for a minute?” He asked, reracking the practice weapons onto their proper shelving. They were the only two left in the training facility. 

“Sure thing kid, what’s going on?” Captain Cardinal asked.

FN-2187 hesitated before turning away from the wall and towards Cardinal,

“Is there any chance I could begin advanced weapon training early? I just… believe that I’m moving forward quite nicely leadership wise and I don’t-“

“I hear you, Eight-Seven and- I’m impressed by all the work you’ve shown me so far. However it’s not within my jurisdiction to move you into advanced weapon and tactical training…” The Captain trailed off, his train of thought seeming to derail. Eight-Seven gave a barely audible sigh,

“Understood, Captain. Thank you.” He turned on his heel and went to walk away before the Captain stopped him.

“Would you be willing to use your free period block on private lessons?” He asked, a hint of hesitation in his voice as if this was something that he was not supposed to be doing. 

“I would have no problem with that Captain.” He tried not to smile. 

“You can’t let anyone else know, understand? I’m not supposed to be doing this.” His voice was low and hushed. 

“I understand.” It hit a bit of nerves within him, and he found himself letting out a shaky breath. He found himself unsure of if it was caused by excitement or fear. 

“Where-“ Eight-Seven began to ask, but Captain Cardinal had already walked away. He was alone, but still he chose to hide the excitement that was bubbling within him. 

He ran his small hand along one of the practice sticks, hesitated for a moment and then ran out of the training facility. 

FN-2187 started down the hallway and closed his eyes as he walked, his hand gliding against the durasteel wall. He had long since memorized every corridor that he was allowed into. 

It was just one of the things that he took extensive pride in.


	4. A Promising Path

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> FN-2187 learns more about the First Order

The bright neon lights of the training center seemed a little more harsh than usual despite the fact that he was only there an hour earlier than usual. 

FN-2187’s private lessons required him to skip breakfast- their previous arrangement of using his free block felt too risky. Captain Cardinal had told him that the hall surrounding the room was least monitored during breakfast hour. He didn’t exactly mind skipping his morning meal, but it’s absence was causing his stomach to grumble. Never did he think he would actually be wishing for a calcium bar. 

Quiet thrumming of plastic armor alerted the young boy to the presence of another. Captain Cardinal stood over him and he quickly scrambled to his feet, his posture instantly snapping to perfect form. The Captain waved him off, but his posture didn’t falter. 

“Are you sure we’ll be fine doing this here?” The boy asked, nervousness weaving through his voice. Captain Cardinal stilled for a second, but eventually nodded, 

“We’ll be fine. Worst comes to worst I’ll just say you were eager to help me get the center ready before your division comes in. Don’t worry Eight-Seven, I’d be disciplined much harder than you would be.” His tone faded into that of a low-grade sandpaper by the time he finished talking. Eight-Seven felt his mouth go dry. He didn’t want anyone to get in trouble for anything, especially if it was his fault. 

“Oh- here.” The Captain mumbled, pulling something out from the chest piece of his armor. FN-2187 caught it, the wrappings around it wrinkling as it crumpled in his fingers. Under his helmet, Cardinal looked impressed at the boy’s fast reflexes. He had barely given a warning before tossing the vitamin bar at him. 

“Thank you, Captain.” Eight-Seven responded, tearing the wrapping open at the perforation. He bit into it and the flavor instantly surprised him. It would only make sense that the higher ranking troopers got to eat the better food, he figured. He wondered how he would be able to go back to his own bland bars after this. It was unlike anything he had ever tasted before and his mouth began to water, forcing him to take another bite. 

Captain Cardinal chuckled and crossed his arms over his chest,

“A lot better than your bars, huh kiddo?” He shook his head. FN-2187 looked up at him with a smile plastered on his face,

“I’ve never tasted anything this-” 

“Delicious?” He raised an eyebrow, unbeknownst to the boy. 

Eight-Seven nodded quickly and finished up his breakfast.  
The Captain waved his hand, motioning for FN-2187 to follow him. They went to the far corner and slipped into a secondary room. It was not anywhere near the size of the main area of the center. It had lower ceilings and dim lights, yet the entirety of the back wall contained sectioned off screens. Opposite of the screens were racks that contained buckets and various weapons that appeared to be plastic. From the floor in front of each screen protruded a small holo-projector. 

“What is all of this, Captain?” Eight-Seven questioned, his curiosity getting the best of him as his eyes wandered around the room, taking everything in. 

“These are battle sims. They are semi-realistic simulations that not only guide someone through combat, but are also able to replicate over fifty different types of terrain. Everything from sand to rocky paths. They just started developing a underwater-sim for our in-training seatroopers. Not exactly sure how much I’m supposed to tell you about them just yet.” He wrung his hands together as his eyes scanned along the walls. 

The First Order were able to obtain old plans and descriptions of seatroopers in files recovered from the days of the Empire. Though, The Empire themselves had seemingly just begun to experiment with the new infantry type themselves near-after the destruction of the first Death Star. The plans were far from perfect. Before the First Order began to modify the original plans, they had discovered just how many flaws the original seatroopers had. First, their air tanks would only allow them up to ten minutes under water before oxygen levels would drop below safe levels. With a few modifications, they were able to drastically improve this to a thirty minute window which was more effective. Their helmets, once prone to leaking, were redesigned to be completely aquaphobic. Captain Cardinal was quite proud of the operation, personally overseeing the developments himself. For once, General Hux had actually been pleased with a project that Cardinal lead. It didn’t happen very often, especially since Captain Phasma was brought on board. As of late, it was a bit easier for him to slip under the General’s watch. 

“Underwater?” FN-2187 questioned, confusing the Captain for a moment. It wasn’t long before he realized why the boy was confused. 

He had never seen standing water in his life. No oceans, lakes, or swamps, nothing deeper than the puddles in the freshers after the showers had been running. Cardinal hesitated before bringing his hands up to his helmet, slowly lifting it off, 

“You’ve got a lot to learn, kid.” He mumbled, crouching down so he was at eye level with the young boy.  
“You know the bacta-tanks? Well imagine that but it expands even larger than the length of this ship. There’s all sorts of creatures that live in it too, some of them so tiny that you can’t even see them and some so large they could probably eat full size ships in one gulp.” 

FN-2187 looked at him with wide eyes,

“I don’t think I would make a very good seatrooper.” He said quietly,  
“Did they have oceans where you were from?” 

“Oceans? I can’t even say there were bodies of water outside of troughs for some of the creatures. I come from Jakku- a dry, desert planet where you will pretty much be able to only find sand.” He gave a small laugh while he shook his head. 

“Is there anything important there?” 

“On Jakku? Not in my mind, but you never know kid. You never know. 

—

“You’ve been doing excellent with the training stick. I can't let you take it up a step until you’re older, however. You’re quite skilled, Eight-Seven, I hope you take pride in that.” Captain Cardinal slid his helmet up and rubbed the sweat off of his forehead with his glove. 

“Thank you, Captain.” Eight-Seven placed he staff back on the rack.

“Damnit- the rest of your division will be here any minute. Just make yourself look not busy.” The Captain turned on his heel and walked out before the boy even had a chance to say anything to him. 

Eight-Seven found himself hoping that the Captain wouldn’t single him out as he often did. He wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle the double load of practice. For the briefest moment he considered lying, telling the captain that he wasn’t feeling well and head back to his quarters for some silence. An hour away from everyone and everything- but he couldn’t. He couldn’t just abandon the rest of his division because he decided to break the rules in the first place. So instead, he sat down on the steps just like he did every day. 

If he wanted to be a leader, he had to prove himself in more than just usage of weapons. 

He thought childishly about what color he could have for his armor. It didn’t occur to him just how few colors he had seen- so he settled on blue. After all, red was already Captain Cardinal’s and as cool as it was, he couldn’t steal it from him. 

“FN-2187” The pronunciation is sharp, each letter and number spoken clearer than he had ever heard anyone say with the exception of-

He scrambled quickly to his feet, straightening his already perfect posture as he looked up at General Hux. Somehow, his posture seemed even more stuff and concise, as if he had a pole running up his spine. 

“Yes sir?” Eight-Seven questioned.

“My reports say you didn’t report to the mess hall for breakfast this morning.” He sneered at his data-pad, scrolling down its screen with one finger. 

“I wasn’t hungry this morning, sir. I’m not feeling very well.” He responded quickly, trying to hide how nervous he was. Of course they would notice that he hadn’t reported to a required assignment, FN-2187 couldn’t remember any time in the past that he had neglected to report. 

“Perhaps a trip to the medbay then?” General Hux suggested, raising one eyebrow as he pulled the pad into his chest. 

“No sir- training is much more important.” 

He could’ve sworn he saw a smirking smile creep into the corner of his mouth. 

“Quite promising indeed, Captain.” Hux replied, and FN-2187 quickly realized that the General was looking over his head. Captain Cardinal was standing directly behind him. 

“Thank you, General.” Cardinal responded.

General Hux studied him for a moment,

“After you’ve finished working here I need to speak to you, Captain.” He trains his eyes on FN-2187 before turning on his heel and walking out. Eight-Seven could feel dread drop into his stomach. He only hoped that whatever the General needed Captain Cardinal for, it was not to have him get pushed out one of the ports and into space. 

Cardinal cleared his throat before commencing the lesson. 

—

Eight-Seven did not see Captain in the mess hall for dinner that evening. Though, that wasn’t rare. 

FN-2003 sat down next to FN-2187, breaking his concentration. 

“Hey.” FN-2003 said half-heartedly. 

“What’s up?” FN-2187 asked, concerned for Slip. Slip… that’s what they had started to call him and Eight-Seven thought it was very suiting for him. He certainly wasn’t the most graceful member of the FN division. 

“How do you do it?” He questions, staring at the table as he avoided eye contact. 

“Do… How do I do what?” Eight-Seven’s eyebrows furrow as he looks at Slip. 

“How are you so good at our combat training?” 

He froze. It was something he had never asked himself before. 

“Luck?” He responded after a moment, sounding unsure of himself because he admitted was. 

Slip laughed,

“You’re always so modest. You have a gift, even Captain can see that. Meanwhile I’m just-“ He cut off, giving a small shrug as he shook his head.

“Hey now, come on.” FN-2187 frowned, putting his hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m the weakest link, there’s nothing we can do about you. You, Nines… everyone is figuring this all out faster than I am and any time I think I’m catching up- I’m already five more steps behind.” 

“I can help you.” Right-Seven offered before speaking again,

“You’re not the weakest link. We’re a team, Slip. Brothers, all of us together or none of us at all.” 

Slip turned his head and gave a small smile.

“You don’t have to help me.”

“But I want to. We can only grow stronger from it. How about tomorrow I can Captain Cardinal if I can pair with you instead of him?” He suggests. Slip wasn’t as fast of a learner as the others in their division. Often he was skittish, around the idea of using the practice sticks against other people. Though when he got the hang of it, he rapidly became rash and trigger-happy. He would launch blows with more force that what was needed and he would pay the price in the rebound. Eight-Seven wondered if he could help him unlearn that. Star completely new with a clean slate and try again. If he could just learn to control it, 

“I think I would like that.” Slip’s smile grew slightly larger. Eight-Seven playfully ruffled-up Slip’s hair before pushing his tray towards him. 

“Here, gonna need lots of food if you want to be a big, strong boy like me.” He laughs, flexing his thin arms.

“Get those toothpick arms out of here.” Slip playfully shoved Eight-Seven, laughing loudly. 

“Yeah yeah, see you later. Maybe we’ll see who can do the most pushups.” 

“You sure you you’re up to that challenge?” Slip raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Aren’t I helping you tomorrow? I was going to go easy but-“

“Not fair.” Slip chuckled, but FN-2186 just shakes his head. 

“Don’t worry. I won’t make you do too many push-ups.”


End file.
